Heart of a Vampire
by DragonFire155
Summary: A tale of a hero in the cold land of Skyrim, who faced tragedy and decided to live in seclusion, as to not hurt anyone else. Now given a new chance to be a hero he was born to be and fight against the vampires in the ranks of Dawnguard. A retelling of the Dawnguard DLC with some minor changes to the story as well as a lot of new dialogue between many of the characters.
1. A Lost Hero

Brogan Bearclaw stared into the horizon. A storm was brewing.

"Won't be long now 'til it reaches here,"he thought. His black hair dropped over his eyes again and he grunted, sweeping it aside.

"Why did I decide to build a house in the rainiest part of Skyrim again?" he thought as he climbed down from the roof of his newly finished manor. The ladder creaked a bit under his weight.

His horse Frost looked at him from his stable with hungry eyes and stomped the ground with one leg. "Oh no you don't. Erik fed you today already."

Frost let out an arguing huff.

"No!" Brogan answered and stared the horse dead in the eye. The horse stared back, neither of them flinching even slightly. After a few moments Brogan finally let up. "Talos' balls Frost, you're as stubborn as a bloody mammoth!" Frost huffed agreeably as Brogan threw him an apple. "But you won't get any more 'til tomorrow!''

Frost looked at him with a gleam in his eyes.

"You're too clever for your own good" Brogan grunted and walked over to the house's main door.

He opened the door and yelled in: "Erik, Rayya, come and help me cover everything from the rain!"

"At once, my thane!" Rayya's voice echoed from the main hall.

"Yes, yes, coming!" Erik's voice came from upstairs with a lot less enthusiasm. The young lad had thought that adventuring with the fabled Dragonborn would be a lot more exciting and while he had been on many adventures with him, ever since he'd accepted the role of the Steward in his manor things had gotten really boring. At least Llewellyn, the bard he'd hired had taken up most of the stewardly duties, so he didn't have to care about those anymore.

"Erik, collect all the animals into their pens. Rayya, you help me with the tools."

Erik sighed and started herding the chickens into their coop and steering the cow towards her pen.

"Is there something wrong with the lad?" Brogan asked Rayya, nodding towards Erik as they gathered pickaxes and shovels from the yard.

"I believe he wishes life would be more exciting around here, my thane," she replied. Thunder struck somewhere in the distance.

"I'll send him hunting tomorrow. We'll see if that'll cheer him up a notch"

The storm came quicker than Brogan had anticipated. The rain hammered loudly against the roof and thunder roared every few moments. Rayya was sitting in the main hall, arm wrestling with Erik. Brogan sat next to them and watched for a few moments.

"Whoever wins will get an item of their choosing from my armory. Of course, this excludes my personal arms and armor that I cannot recreate, such as the... gifts, I've gotten from... important people. Like the black bow." He meant the Nightingale bow, but couldn't tell them that he used to be the greatest thief in Skyrim. It was among his most guarded secrets.

"Is that stick even worth a damn in a fight anyway?" Erik grunted as Rayya gained a bit more ground. "To me it looks like nothing but some ornamental crap."

Rayya smirked, knowing well that Erik was riling Brogan up with that line. Brogan loved that bow and Erik knew it.

"Listen here, milk drinker! That bow has killed countless dragons as well as the - "

Erik cut him off. "...As well as half the Stormcloack army. I know! You've told that same story a hundred times, old man! For someone with only 30 winters behind him you talk like one with 70!"

"Don't try your luck, 'Slayer'," Brogan answered with fiery tone. Rayya laughed and lost the strenght from her arm, resulting in Erik hitting her hand into the table.

"You two fight like an old married couple!" she said as she made room for Brogan to sit opposite to Erik and left to grab some mead from the kitchen. Erik grinned. He knew that 'insulting' Brogan's priced items made him mad, and he was much better company when he was mad.

"Llewellyn!" Brogan exclaimed as he lighted two candles on the left and right side of his arm. "Come sing us something that will drown out the racket that rain makes!"

"Of course, milord." Llewellyn answered as he stepped from his room with a lute in his hand.

Brogan thumped his elbow on the table and grabbed Erik's hand. "We start when the music starts," he said, staring Erik in the eye. Erik nodded.

Llewellyn cleared his throat and played a few notes. Then he started: "Ooh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead..."

Erik and Brogan stared each other down as they tried to overpower one another.

"I win and I get that bow!" Erik said with that same grin of an untrained mercenary wannabe of a farmer he'd been when Brogan had first met him.

"Oh? And what could you give to this bet that would be equal in worth to my bow?"

"Nothing, really. But I want to see you lose it!" Erik grinned even more widely.

"Well in that case I'd better not lose then."

Rayya was in the kitchen pouring mead for the three of them. The mouthwatering smell of a roast boar rose up from the oven and made her stomach rumble as she listened to the rain and the occational thunderstrike. She didn't know why, but for some reason she was sure that the life of her thane would soon change drastically.

"...oh you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead now I think it's high time you lie down and bleed!" Llewellyn continued his song.

"Ready to give up?" Brogan asked Erik.

"A true Nord... never... backs down!" Erik hissed back under his breath.

"As you wish." Brogan chuckled and finally put his full strength into the game.

"And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no mooooore... When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

Erik let out an involuntary cry as Brogan pressed his hand into the candle fire. Llewellyn put down his lute and fetched some cold water for Erik.

"When armwrestling, you must remember to never use all your strength at once. Tire your opponent out, then give them a taste of true Nord strength. Same lesson applies for fighting too," Brogan instructed perhaps a little smugly.

Erik's grin was long gone and had been replaced by a deep frown. As he cooled his hand in the water, he listened closely to Brogan's words. He might not like the method in which Brogan taught him things, but he heeded his lessons regardless. Llewellyn disappeared into the kitchen at the same time as Rayya came from there with three mugs of mead on her hands. She set them onto the table, splashing some of the mead.

"I see you lost, kid" Rayya laughed as she raised her own mug on her lips.

"Well, he did beat you, so he gets to choose one item of his choosing from my armory," Brogan said over the edge of his own mug. "Go on, lad, go pick something you like!"

Erik didn't say anything but his body language told everything to Brogan. "_Watch how they move. How they tense their shoulders. How their brows rise just that little bit. They like your deal,_" he remembered Brynjolf telling him, and he chuckled as he watched Erik pretend he wasn't really interested. Llewellyn came out of the kitchen carrying a full roast boar on a tray and settled it carefully onto the table. The delicious smell filled the room.

"Think we can eat this on one standing?" Brogan asked, looking at Llewellyn.

"Milord, if I may be so bold, I'd say we of this household could eat an entire mammoth in one standing"

Brogan laughed and hit his empty mug on the table. "Go fetch the jar here, and grab yourself a mug too, tonight we'll drink 'til we drop!"

"Of course, milord," Llewellyn answered and headed towards the kitchen again. Erik walked out of the armory wearing Brogan's self made dragonscale armor. "Whatd'ya think?" He asked and held his arms out like he'd just performed a magic trick.

Brogan gave him a passing glance, then looked at his food and started talking. "I hope you prove yourself worthy of wearing that armor, lad. Now, sit down and eat!"

Llewellyn returned from the kitchen and sat next to Rayya. Everyone filled their mugs with mead and started eating. They sat around the table for a long time that night, eating, drinking and singing songs and trading tales.

–

Everybody woke up to the banging on the front door. Brogan was too hungover to think properly.

"Door! Go open the Erik!" he yelled from his room. Erik wasn't in any better condition to speak or walk for that matter and just mumbled incoherently as an answer. The banging continued.

Llewellyn, who didn't seem to be hungover at all, rose from his bed and made it neatly. The stairs complained with squeaks as he headed downstairs and opened the door to reveal a small man nervously wringing his hands, his travelling clothes and bag filled to a breaking point with pergament rolls revealing him as a courier.

"Yes?" Llewellyn said.

"Is this the house of Brogan Bearclaw?" the courier asked timidly. "I've got something I'm supposed to deliver. For his hands only."

Llewellyn scoffed. "In this household, I am his hands. Now would you please give your delivery to me?"

"But I'm supposed to give this to Mr. Brogan only," the courier stuttered.

"Oh, for the love of the Nine just give it to him and shut up! Can't you understand there are people hungover here?" Brogan yelled from his room.

"Please, my thane, not so loud..." Rayya groaned from upstairs.

"Very well then," the courier said and handed a letter to Llewellyn.

"Looks like that's it. Got to go!" He sighed and started to head away from the manor. Llewellyn closed the door and headed to Brogan's room.

"Just put it on the nightsand," Brogan mumbled trough his pillow.

"As you wish, milord," Llewellyn answered. He placed the letter onto the nightstand and opened the window, letting sunshine and fresh air inside the otherwise dark and musty-smelling room. Brogan tried to argue but talking hurt his head, so he decided against it, instead burying his head under his pillow.

He woke up with a much clearer head after a couple of hours. He sat up and held his head on his hands.

"Worth it..._" _he thought as he got up from the bed and put on his working clothes. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, noticing the letter on his nightstand. He broke the seal on the letter as he headed out of his room and into the dining hall, where Llewellyn had prepared breakfast for him and the others. Erik and Rayya were both eating already, Erik digging in to some bread and cheese and Rayya some of the leftover boar. Brogan sat down and gathered the rest of the leftovers; bread, eggs, cheese and some butter on his plate, filled a mug with milk and started burrowing down on his breakfast as he started reading the letter aloud.

"'To the most esteemed Sir Brogan Bearclaw. You've become something of a legend here in Skyrim. Every Jarl's court holds your word in high regard, as a thane as well as the Harbinger of the companions. You are a warrior of most' blah blah blah." He skipped the pleasantries. "'I would like to invite you to join the Dawnguard to fight the evergrowing vampire menace. You would get a free place in our keep as well as a position of command in our organisation. We need people like you, and Skyrim needs us.' Signed Dawn Commander Isran." He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the fireplace.

Erik stopped eating. "Are you serious?" he asked. "You were offered a chance to be the hero you used to be and you just threw it away? Why!?"

"I'm retired," Brogan answered and swept his hair aside from his forehead.

"You are 30 years old! True Nords fight until they are too weakened by old age to grip a sword! And if you're truly retired then why do you keep practicing yourself in archery and swordfight? A retiree would have no need of those!"

"I practise because it pleases me, lad. Why do you care about that anyhow? And I fought until there was nothing left to fight," Brogan answered with a piece of boar a his mouth. "This 'vampire menace' is nothing but an excuse for fools to make some quick coin. I won't be a part of that. I still have my dignity." He drank some milk from his mug.

"Says the man hiding in the woods, pretending not to give a shit about the world around him!"

"Hey!" Brogan yelled, slamming his mug to the table. "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I intend to retire as a hero, and let myself be remembered or forgotten as such."

"So you're afraid for your reputation?"

"No." Brogan sighed. Erik noticed the same look of great regret in his eyes he had from time to time since right before he decided to move into the woods.

"Finish your meal and grab a bow, you're going hunting." Brogan grumbled.

Erik didn't argue, leaving the house after the breakfast and heading into the woods.

"Come with me, Rayya. We're going to get rid of that altar on my backyard," Brogan told Rayya.

They stepped outside. The forest was still wet from the storm last night, and smelled wonderful. Brogan filled his lungs with air and held it in for a couple of seconds before breathing out.

"Are you alright, my thane?" Rayya asked with a worried tone as Brogan headed towards the tool shed.

"You don't have to be so formal all the time, Rayya," Brogan replied. "I won't die just because you won't address me as your thane all the time, as you might have noticed if you're lucid enough when you're drunk." He opened the shed door.

Rayya's face wen't completely red. "I...uh..." she sputtered.

"There is no harm done," Brogan chuckled. "I actually prefer it when you act as a friend instead of a bodyguard." He threw a her a shovel.

"Well, if you so wish, then I shall act more casually"

"Please do," he said as he grabbed two pickaxes from the shed and shut the door. As they walked by the eastern wall, Brogan stopped to check some damages on the wood. Clawmarks of a troll. He sighed as they continued on their way towards the hilltop. They headed down the hillside behind the house and Brogan slipped on the wet grass.

"Shit!"

He cried out as he slided down the hill on his back. Rayya was laughing her head off watching the situation above him on the hill.

"Ugh... Screw you too, Rayya!" Brogan let out as he climbed up. "Now get over here and help me with this damned stone!"

Rayya came down a lot more carefully, avoiding grass and mud and stepping only on solid rock. When they were both standing next to the altar, Brogan gave her a pickaxe.

"If we're fast, we'll get this done in a couple of hours or so," Brogan said as he looked at the altar. There was some moss covering it. Nobody had maintained it since he'd killed the necromancers using it for their dark rituals. He shivered as he remembered the mangled corpse on the altar, and the necromancers standing around it. He lifted his pick over his head and struck it down on the stone slab. Blue sparkles flew from the stone on impact, but the stone was unharmed. He struck again, and this time there were more sparkles, but the stone was still undamaged. He struck it once more with all his might and the slab split in two as all the magical energy it had contained burst into the air, throwing Brogan and Rayya on their backs.

Rayya picked herself up quickly. "I expected a bigger explosion."

"There wasn't much magic left in it," Brogan answered as he rose up. "See the plantation on the bottom stones? Nature was going to claim it back."

"Well, let's get to work," Rayya said, tightening her grip around her pick.

After 3 hours of hitting metal on stone, the altar and the stone pillars surrounding it were finally nothing but a neat pile of stone rubble. Brogan wiped his hair off his sweaty forehead.

"Done..." he said as he threw his pick onto the ground. He looked at Rayya. "A nice mug of cold mead would be perfect right about now, eh?"

Rayya didn't answer, just stared into the distance.

"What's troubling you?" Brogan asked as he walked to her side.

"It's just that..." Rayya started. "Are you certain that you don't wish to be a part of the Dawnguard? Erik has a point, you could be a hero again."

"No," Brogan grunted, not looking her in the eyes. "I'm done with that life."

Rayya looked at him and he had the same regretful look in his eyes. "What happened?" she asked.

"Huh?" The distant, regretful look that had been lingering on his face was suddenly gone.

"What happened that made you stop adventuring and retire so young?"

"Nothing happened!" Brogan hissed angrily and started to make his way up to the house.

"Bring the tools with you!" he barked. Rayya sighed and started picking up the pickaxes and shovels. She carried the tools over to the shed and grabbed some oat for Frost. He was happy to see food in his manger and neighed happily. She patted his head fondly. "

When's the last time your mane has been brushed?" she asked, brushing pieces of hay and other trash from Frost's mane. "I should take you for a ride." Frost's eyes widened, and he looked at her with pleading eyes.

"If it's okay with Brogan, I'll take a ride with you around Falkreath. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Rayya cooed at the horse.

Frost neighed with a high pitched voice. Rayya chuckled as she continued to brush his mane.

–

Brogan was inside, drinking. Doubt started to bang at the back of his mind. He drowned it with mead but it came back soon.

"Should I have taken Isran's offer? Should I have taken up arms again? Should I have started to use the Voice again?_ NO_!" he battled the thoughts in his mind. "I won't use the Voice ever again! None of my friends shall suffer under my power again..."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lewellyn!"

"Yes, milord?" The bard appeared from the kitchen.

"Send word to someone that I'm paying gold to whoever carries that pile of rubble from my backyard. Also, I need some proper stone and wood."

"At once, milord."

Rayya stepped inside the hall. "My thane, would you mind if I took Frost for a ride? He seems anxious to run again." She had a warm smile on her face.

Brogan looked at her with tired eyes. "Sure, whatever. Just feed the other animals first."

"Of course, my thane." And with that, she was gone. Brogan sighed and swept his hair aside. It was really growing too long.

"Is this what I truly want?" he thought. "Is this how I want to spend the rest of my life?"

–

As Rayya was saddling Frost, Llewellyn approached her with a note in his hand. "If you would, please give this to the steward of Falkreath. She'll send it forward for the right people."

"As you wish," Rayya answered as she tightened the saddle. She grabbed the note and put it in her pack. "See you later!" Then she rode off.

Llewellyn headed indoors and found Brogan sleeping with his head on the table. "...Never again..." he mumbled in his sleep.

When Brogan woke up about half an hour later, Erik had returned from his hunt with a nice catch of two deers and five rabbits. Brogan streched his arms and yawned.

"Did Rayya go out with Frost?" Erik asked as he sat down opposite of Brogan, a mug of mead in his hand.

"Yeah, she thought Frost might want to run for a bit again," Brogan answered, filling a mug of his own from the tankard on the table.

"You up for a game, old man?" Erik asked and grabbed a deck of cards from the table.

"Sure, why not." Brogan answered..

The rest of the night went rather normally, some eating, singing and drinking as well as a small argument between Erik and Brogan. Brogan decided to go to bed early; this night he wouldn't stay up and drink so late. His thoughts still taunted him. _Your fault... Not a true Nord... Forgotten hero..._

"No..." he whispered to himself. "I will not be forgotten as a hero who lost his way."

His thoughts haunted him for a long time before he finally fell asleep.

–

Next morning, he woke up early and snuck into his armory to check the mannequins. A lot of random armors he'd made for sale, now forgotten. He sighed as he opened the locked cabinet he kept on the far side of the room.

"I never thought I'd open this blasted thing again..." A puff of old, damp air flushed over him. "...but I never thought those two fools would talk me over to doing this either."

He moved the false back panel aside and stepped inside. His secret room was exactly like he'd left it over five months ago. There were more mannequins near the walls, each holding a different armor, different parts of his life since his return to the Homeland. There was the Wolf armor of the companions, the Imperial Legion scout armor, Thieves' Guild armor, the Nightingale armor, the Guildmaster armor, and the specially enchanted dragonscale armor: Dragonmail as well as the Deathbrand stalhrim armor he'd taken as a 'souvenir' from Solstheim and the partially burned Dark Brotherhood armor he'd taken from one of the assassins after torching their sanctuary. And in the middle of the room, a place for his most treasured armor: an empty mannequinn. He had always thought that he'd find an armor fitting for the title, but he never could.

Brogan decided to grab the the Guildmaster's hood but dressed himself in simple dark clothes. He'd travel to Dawnguard keep incognito. There were weapon plaques on the walls. There weren't many options here, as he kept most of the weapons in the main armory. Regardless, he took the Nightingale bow and tried to remember what Karliah had told him about the bow but found that he'd long since forgotten about it. He sighed as he put it on his back. He grabbed a couple of unique shortswords he'd crafted for himself out of the remains of Alduin he'd smuggled out of Sovngarde. They were black as the night, and sharper than anything else in the known existance. He swung them around a bit and then stuffed them into their proper sheaths. Last, he looked at the glass cabinet on the other side of the room. It contained all the daedric artifacts he'd collected troughout his adventures. There were a few good ones, such as Azura's Star and Meridia's Dawnbreaker Blade, but it also contained some of the more distasteful ones as well, such as the Sanguine Rose and the Ebony Blade. He shivered as he looked upon the cabinet and tried to forget he'd ever owned any of those artifacts. He was glad that at least there weren't any of the really bad ones such as Boethiah's or Mehrunes Dagon's artifacts. He cast one last look on the different armors before heading back up to the main armory. The air felt a lot fresher as he climbed up the stairs, placed the back panel on its place and locked the cabinet. He took an arrow quiver from the wall and checked its contents. A fine batch of Dragonbone arrows carefully tipped in poison._ "_These will do..." he thought and grinned as he strapped the quiver on his hip.

Llewellyn had gotten up and started to prepare brekfast. Brogan grabbed a wooden bowl and a spoon and started banging them together as hard as he could, making as much noise as possible.

"Wake up people! We eat and then we leave! We're headed to Riften!"

Erik groaned upstairs. Rayya was silent but Brogan could feel her anger.

"Hurry it up! We're burning daylight!"

Rayya came down, tired as ever.

"ERIK! Get down here now or you'll leave with an empty stomach!" Brogan yelled from the bottom of his lungs. Erik stumbled down the stairs and almost fell down the last few steps. He sat down, put his head on the table and fell asleep again.

Brogan's hair dropped over his eyes again and he decided that that was enough. He looked at the mirror on the wall and grabbed a dagger from the armory. Then he returned to the mirror and stared at himself with his hair over his eyes. He looked like a 50-year-old man with his beard.

"Not anymore," he thought, slicing off a chunk of his hair with the dagger, quickly shortening the hair that was constantly cloaking his vision. Then he shaved his beard. He'd aged rather well for a Nord. Cutting off the excess hair and beard made him look like a 25-year-old.

Llewellyn made a lot smaller breakfast this time, containing just some eggs and bread and cheese and milk or water for drinks. Erik lifted his head sleepily and started munching on some eggs. Rayya ate some bread with cheese and butter and Brogan simply ate an egg with a small piece of cheese on a slice of bread. When they were ready to leave at seven o'clock, Brogan headed to his room and opened a safebox. There was a lot of different valuables along with a fat bag of 10 000 septims there. He grabbed the bag and and three other coin pouches each containing 2000 septims before locking the safe again and heading back into the main hall.

He threw the bag of 10 000 septims to Lewellyn. "Hire the Companions to watch over the house while we're gone. Also, this should be enough to buy food and pay for someone to get rid of the rubble pile and for some workers to build stairs down the hill on the backyard. Make them build a small hut on the rubblepile's place too. I'll see to finishing it myself." Lewellyn was almost crushed with the weight of the gold hitting him in the chest.

"As you wish, milord," he said with what little air was left in his lungs after having the air knocked out by the bag.

"And to think you paid me only 500 septims," Erik grunted.

Rayya scoffed "I wasn't paid anything!"

"So my food, my house and my great company aren't enough for you two?" Brogan laughed. Rayya had put on her traditional housecarl steel armor and her Redguard scimitars on her belt. Erik put on his newly won dragonscale armor and grabbed a solid dragonbone greatsword from the armory.

"Well, let's get going," Brogan said and pulled on his hood. He didn't want to attract too much attention and hoped that this way he'd just look like some important idiot with an armed escort. He saddled Frost and hopped on. "We should be able to get some horses for you two in Falkreath," he said as he started riding slowly away from his manor for the first time in six months.


	2. Towards Riften I

**A/N: **_Okay, so getting this out has taken a lot longer than it was supposed to. My cousin who agreed to beta read for me, decided that she was lazy and preferred to play Dragon Age Inquisition instead of beta reading this. (Can't blame her, it's a really good game.) and despite my objections, she kept urging me to put this up without proper betaing, so here it is, non checked version. I hope there aren't too many flaws and that you'll all find it enjoyable regardless. I also decided to change the rating to M for blood and violence. Disclaimer: I own only all the characters not seen in the game, the rest belong to Bethesda._

-o-

They passed a small pond next to the road. A nirnroot was making its distinguishable sound on the bank, and a few mudcrabs looked at them curiously. They arrived at a road and turned West. The sun crept up in the East and cast long shadows ahead them. On their right side, there was the Pinewatch.

"You know, I've never seen anyone come or go from there." Erik said still partly asleep. "Does anyone live there?"

"Not anymore." Brogan answered as they walked by the small cabin. "You can't see it out here, but that was a base for a bandit clan. They got big tunnels right under our feet. Not anymore. I killed those bandits some time ago. Now if you'd head to those tunnels, all you'd find would be the smell of rotten flesh, as I didn't bother to bury any of them after I found out what they had there."

"Do you ever bother to bury anybody?" Erik asked with an uncaring tone.

"If I kill someone honorable, yes. No-good bandits, no."

They continued downhill past a big fallen tree. By the looks of it, it had been felled by a storm. They were approaching a wooden bridge set above the road. Bandits were on the both sides of the bridge.

"Speaking of these assholes..." Brogan muttered as he dismounted Frost who huffed warningly.

"Greetings, highway folk! How are ya today?" He started.

"Don't try your tricks, Nord!" One of the bandits yelled back with an Altmer accent.

"I counted three of them." Rayya whispered and held her hands on the hilts of her scimitars.

"Me too. An Altmer, a Redguard and a Nord" Erik muttered.

Brogan grinned and watched the bandits carefully. Two bowmen and a warrior.

"So..." Brogan started "Will you let us pass under your 'great' bridge?"

"Mayyybe" The Redguard warrior answered. "How much will you pay us? You are rich enough to hire an escort for yourself so you should be able to afford say... 300 septims per person."

"Oh I don't think so." Brogan answered and grinned under his hood. "But you know what I _can_ afford? Three arrows. Please allow me to demonstrate.

And with that he took the bow from his back and shot the Altmer in the shoulder. The bow was back on his back before the Altmer even had time to scream.

The bandit yelled in pain and stumbled backwards before falling on his ass.

"I can still afford two of these arrows. Do you want more?"

The Redguard crouched next to his friend and said something Brogan couldn't hear. Then he yelled and jumped down the bridge. He was dead before he hit the ground with Brogans arrow in his forehead.

The Nord archer didn't even realize what was going on before Brogan had tensed his bow and aimed it at her.

"Don't think I won't kill you, lass. Now drop your weapon and come down from there."

Her eyes stared at him from behind of her blond hair.

"Now I'm going to count to three, and if you don't-" He was cut off by her screaming and tensing her bow, to which he answered with putting an arrow in her arm.

"You bastard!" The woman cried out as she loosened her bow, shooting the arrow somewhere into the woods.

"Hey, I'm not the one robbing innocent passersby." Brogan answered and mounted Frost again.

The woman was bleeding as she looked at her Altmer friend who'd died of the poison in Brogan's arrow. She looked terrified at Brogan when she realized she'd die soon too.

"Get down here and I'll give you a poison cure potion." Erik yelled to the woman, who didn't think for long.

She came down the stairs and threw her weapons to the ground. Erik gave her a potion which she drank in seconds. Then he tied her hands with some leather strips and they continued on their way to Falkreath.

-o-

After about a half an hour later, they arrived at the West gate of Falkreath.

"Take her to the Jarl." Brogan said to Erik. "He might even pay you a finders fee!" Erik scoffed and started to lead the sulking woman towards the Jarl's longhouse.

Rayya looked at the guards patrolling the town. "Untrained whelps." She said and looked at Brogan. "How is it possible that the Jarl let's these milk drinkers guard his holding?"

"Hah!" Brogan laughed. "You've met Jarl Siddgeir, right? The man's a fool who cares about no-one but himself. But, he is a Jarl, and as such he deserves respect." Brogan said with regret in his tone.

"Now go buy some supplies for our journey. I'll have a talk with the stable master.

Falkreath Hold had gained a lot more wealth after the Empire had won the civil war. Now they had their own stables and a proper mill, as well as a school for children. There weren't many people walking around the town. Most were still sleeping or eating breakfast.

He passed Narri who noted on how Familiar Brogan looked, but couldn't place exactly why. He did his best not to remind her, or anyone for that matter, of his identity. He'd rather let them think he was dead or disappeared, at least for now.

The stable master was an older man, had a white beard and white long hair that reached his shoulders. He was brushing the mane of one of his horses when Brogan approached him. He turned his head and looked quickly at Brogan, then continued to brush the horse.

"So, what can I do for ya today?" He asked, his voice a bit gruff.

"I need two horses. Fast and strong enough to travel long distances in short time."

"Hrrmm" The stable master let out "I've got a couple of those. They are, however, rare in these parts of Skyrim. 4000 septims and you'll have the two of them."

Brogan smiled and handed the stable master a note with the Guild shadow mark on it. The stable master looked at it quickly and answered: "As I said, you'll have them both for 2000 septims."

"Deal" Brogan grinned grabbed a pouch of coins from his pack and handed it to the stable master.

He hadn't felt this good for a while. Using the guild's grasp over the trade in Skyrim gave him a great advantage when dealing with almost any merchant who crossed his path, and using it again, he felt good. He grabbed the reins of the two horses he was offered and studied them for a moment.

The first one was a fine stallion with a long mane and dark brown fur, the other one was a mare, white as the snow on top of the Throat of the World and with gleaming eyes and mane of silver.

He turned to leave and when he was almost out, the stable master spoke to him again: "Watch your back, thief. You never know who you can trust."

"Believe me, I know." Brogan answered and headed to the town center. Rayya was returning from the food store, and carried a large bag of supplies on her back.

"What'd you get?" Brogan asked her.

"Some basic rations. Bread and cheese mostly. Some bottled ale too. And tents and bedrolls for each of us." She answered and placed the bag on the dark stallion "Is he mine?" She asked and patted the horse.

"Aye, if you want him to be"

"Then I name him Peanut. How do you like that name?" The horse neighed happily.

"He seems to like it" She said. Frost shook his head.

"Frost doesn't" Brogan chuckled

"Well good thing Frost doesn't get to decide it then" she answered with a grin.

Erik walked towards them from the Longhouse with an expression of terror on his face and drops of blood on his armor.

"What happened?" Brogan asked him with a worrying tone.

"He..." Erik started "He... The Jarl, he... He just killed that girl! Beheaded her himself while he ordered me to hold her down!"

"Odd of him to kill her right then and there, in his own Longhouse." Rayya said curiously.

"Unfortunate." Brogan said. "But there's nothing we can do about it now, so steel yourself, lad! How did you ever think you could become a mercenary without spilling the blood of women in Skyrim? Here the women are just as bloody tough as their men and once they grab an ax into their hands and head to a battlefield, they become warriors, and if you cannot kill a warrior, you are not a warrior yourself. If you need an example, just look at Rayya here. Even if she is a Redguard and not a Nord, she's still a daughter of Skyrim, and a warrior. You understand?"

"Yes... Yes I understand" Erik answered with a shaking voice.

"Now, here's your horse." Brogan said and handed the rein to Erik. "She's a fine mare, and will be loyal to you as long as you're loyal to her. Now why don't you give her a name?"

Erik looked at his horse, and the look of terror that had been over his face was suddenly gone, replaced with a smile. He looked at her mane, her legs, her eyes. Then he smiled: "Annabel. Her name is Annabel."

Annabel looked at Erik straight in the eye. "Do you like that name?" Annabel neighed. "She likes it." Erik smiled again.

Frost neighed as Brogan mounted him. "It would seem that Frost likes her name too." he said and gave a snide glare to Rayya who rolled her eyes and mounted Peanut.

"Let's get going then. We need to move swiftly if we wish to reach Ivarstead before dark." Brogan said as he rode out of the gates with Erik and Rayya right behind him.

-o-

"Say, why don't we see who is the fastest horse? Let's race to the gate of Helgen!" Erik suggested when they were about halfway to Helgen from Falkreath.

"Hmm... You in Rayya?" Brogan turned to ask but she galloped past them both.

"Way ahead of ya!" She yelled as she passed them and Erik shot off right after her. Brogan chuckled. "Hiyah, let's go Frost! Show them who's boss!" Frost neighed and started to gallop as fast as he could.

Not too long afterwards, he passed Rayya and Peanut, but couldn't get ahead of Erik and Annabel. "By the Nine that's one fast horse!" he panted as Frost kept up his speed but didn't get any closer to Annabel.

So after a long while of exhausting racing, the three of them were all at Helgen's gate, Erik and Annabel first, Brogan and Frost second and Rayya and Peanut last.

"It would seem that Annabel is the fastest horse on my lands now." Brogan said as he dismounted Frost and gave him a pat.

"Not fair, Peanut was carrying our rations." Rayya said playfully. "I demand a re-race"

"Someone's a sore loser" Erik gloated with a grin.

"Allright, enough you two. There should be imperial workers making the repairs here in Helgen. If they ask any questions, let me handle them." Brogan said and pushed open the gate.

"Hello? Anyone here?" he yelled.

"Hrm... odd." he murmured when he got no answer. "Well, that's not our problem. Let's keep moving. It's almost noon already and it will take us several hours to get past the mountain pass if it's covered in snow, and it always is!"

"Well, I think we should let the horses rest for a moment after that spurt. Also, I think it's about lunch time anyway." Rayya said.

Brogan thought about it for a moment. "Fine, but when you're freezing in that pass when the night comes, don't blame me!" He scanned the village. Most of the buildings were still in disrepair, and it looked like Helgen had been a bandit camp at some point. It felt weird for him to be back here again.

"We'll take a half hour brake. Find some water for the horses. I'm gonna take a look around." Brogan exclaimed absently as he made his way trough the village. The rubble had been cleared, and it was easy to move around.

"Wonder how the world would look now if I'd died here seven years ago_..._" he thought as he stared at the execution block that still hadn't been moved. "Likely Alduin would rule Tamriel by now. Of have destroyed it. Neither a good future."

Erik walked behind him. "Care for a little practice?" He asked.

Brogan could hear the smug grin in his voice. "All right, 'Slayer', let's see what you got!" He turned around and threw his bow and quiver onto the ground. He drew his short swords and Erik grabbed his great sword.

Erik yelled as he swung his sword. Brogan dodged the swing and hit Erik in the back of the head with the pommel of his own sword.

"Rule number twenty six: Don't yell and give away your intention to attack." He said.

"Easy for you to say, those blades barely weight anything! This right here is one heavy ass sword!" Erik answered as he rubbed his head. "And you're just pulling the numbers for your rules from the top of your head."

"Well, that's why I prefer smaller blades. And yeah, the number of the rule doesn't matter at all as long as you remember the rule itself." Brogan charged at him, but Erik managed to catch his blades with a well placed block.

"Not bad, not bad..." Brogan said and studied Erik's movements. "However..." He crouched down and swept Erik's feet from under him with his own and placed his blade next to Erik's throat in less than a second."...you are no match for me in unfair combat."

"Then why don't we fight in some fair combat?" Erik asked slightly annoyed.

Brogan chuckled. "Because you could win then! I always fight dirty, and I don't fight unless I know the odds are in my favor. Either you learn that or you die when someone who has learned that kills you." He pulled Erik up.

"How can I fight dirty with this sword?" Erik asked curiously.

"Not sure, but I think one could use the berserker rage of the Orcs with that. You'd beat all your enemies into a pulp before the battle even starts. I think that would count as dirty fighting."

"Hah"

"Ready to eat?" Rayya yelled from the half repaired inn. "Oh man, am I!" Erik yelled back and started to head to the half repaired inn. Brogan chuckled, picked up his bow and quiver and walked to the inn as well.

They ate some of their rations and gave the horses some rain water they'd found in a bucket.

-o-

Somewhere slightly after noon they mounted their horses and headed to the Eastern gates of Helgen. Right after the gate, there was a crossroad with one road leading South-East and the other East. They took the road heading East and moved swiftly, passing a sign that showd the direction of Helgen, Ivarstead and Riften.

As they grew closer to the mountain pass, the air got a lot colder. Frost's ears twitched and he started huffing nervously.

"What is it boy?" Brogan asked and patted Frost's head. Frost huffed and sprinted North off the road on a path that had been stomped to the dirt.

"What's gotten into you boy!?" Brogan yelled, but then he heard what Frost had heard. There was someone fighting.

Rayya and Erik came up behind him and they rode slowly and quietly towards the sound. Then they saw her.

There was a young woman, who had a long, flowing black hair, and rather pale skin. She was wearing a nordic carved armor and had a matching shield and a war ax. She was fighting against some witches and had already killed two of them.

"We should help her" Rayya said.

Brogan grunted and took his bow off of his back. He studied the battlefield. There was a large rock in the middle of the place, but he couldn't see what was on top of it. At least five more witches alive. If they made a surprise attack now that the witches were concentrated on the other woman, they could kill them all without much trouble

"All right. Let's go!" He said and rode out of their cover with Rayya and Erik right behind him.

"Victory, or Sovngarde!" Erik yelled as they charged.

The woman turned around to see what was going on and the witches took this opportunity by shooting a thunderbolt into her back. She gasped in pain and dropped on her knees.

"Dammit Erik!" Brogan yelled and shot one of the witches in the head, killing her instantly. Erik rode past one and cleaved her chest as he went. A witch threw a fireball at him and he fell off of his horse. Annabel neighed in terror to see her new master fall down.

Rayya rode past a witch and jumped off of Peanut and onto the witch, knocking her down on her back and slitting her throat, ready to face down the next one who was now staring at her and charging a spell on her hand. The witch threw a fireball at her, but she managed to jump away on the last second. She ducked under a rock.

"Could use some help here!" She yelled as she saw two more witches preparing to fire at her from the center rock. Two arrows flew over her head and and onto the witches. "Thanks!" She yelled but didn't get an answer.

Erik had gotten up and picked up his sword and watched as two witches started to close in on both sides of him. He charged at the one in front of him and ducked as she cast an ice spike at him. Then in one swift slash, as he rose up he hit upwards with his sword, cutting the witch in two from her leg to her shoulder. Blood gushed over his face and it made him feel sick. This wasn't what he had thought adventuring would be like.

Brogan had noticed that a tree trunk was used to create a ramp of sorts over to the central rock in the middle of their battlefield. He stood up and let Frost run there freely and as he rose, he saw an enchanting table and a tent on the central rock. There was also someone- no, something: a hagraven.

He cursed in his mind. "I've always hated those damn things..." he muttered and shot the last witch in his sight, then jumped down and landed on the tree trunk. The trunk was covered in moss and was slippery, making it hard for him to maintain balance.

He fired an arrow at the hagraven but she directed it aside with a swing of her hand. He fired three in rapid succession, but they all were directed aside. The hagraven smiled wickedly and started to prepare a spell.

Brogan had no time to think, only to act, and decided to shoot one more arrow at her, this time hitting her straight in the hand she was preparing her spell on. The hagraven scareamed in pain and quickly shot a lightning bolt at Brogan, who had already gotten a lot closer.

Brogan ducked and avoided the main blast of lightning, but his clothes didn't give much protection and it still hurt him bad. "Crap!" He thought as the lightning burnt his shoulder. He put his bow on his back and drew his swords.

The witch who had forced Rayya to cover behind a rock had approached her, and was close enough for her to strike. With a swift sweep she jumped from behind the rock and lashed at the witch with both of her scimitars.

The witch dodged the first blade, but was caught off guard by the other, and it cut open her chest.

She screamed in pain and fear as Rayya raised her scimitars for the killing strike, but managed to shoot a blast of fire that threw Rayya backwards a couple of feet, burning her skin a bit.

Rayya gasped and charged forward, ignoring the pain and impaling the witch on both of her scimitars. The witch looked at her with pure hatred in her eyes as she drew her last breath.

Erik turned around and saw the other witch who'd been approaching him before had now stopped with a look of utmost disgust and terror on her face. He swept some of the blood from his face.

"Now..." he growled loud enough for her to hear "Your turn..." He started running towards the witch who decided to try and run away as fast as she could instead of fighting the blood-covered Nord charging at her. When she reached the trees, Erik stopped chasing her. His scare tactic had worked perfectly. He looked up and saw Brogan battling the Hagraven, both swinging at each other, Brogan with trained precision and the hagraven with savage strength.

"For an old bitch, you hit pretty hard." Brogan said after the Hagraven cut three deep wounds onto his chest. The hagraven hissed as an answer. She had started to slow down because of the poison in Brogans arrow, but still kept coming at him in a frenzy.

"I'll kill you, human!" She screeched as Brogan dodged and counter attacked her swing, cutting a line along her spine. Hatred burned in her eyes. Brogan panted and tensed his muscles, waiting for another attack. And then the ice spike hit him in his left arm from behind. He gasped in pain and dropped the sword in his left hand. The witch Erik had let escape had returned and shot at Brogan.

"Dammit!" Brogan yelled. Rayya charged after the witch and Erik tried to climb up the rock in time. The witch snared at Brogan, happy gleam in her eyes as she charged a spell in her hand. Borgan managed to avoid the fire she threw at him, but lost his balance and fell onto the ground as the hagraven cackled with joy.

"Shit shit shit!" Brogan thought as he tried to get up, leaning onto the enchanting table. Too late. The hagraven hit him in the right shoulder with another ice spike. The coldness felt unbearable. He couldn't move his left arm at all and his right arm hurt like hell to use.

"You die now, human!" The hagraven cackled as she charged one more spell in her hand. Brogan smiled as he watched past her.

"Behind you." He said with a voice mixed with pain and smugness. The hagraven turned around, only to have Frost hit his hoof in her face. The hagraven fell on her back and Frost stomped her into the ground, not stopping until she was nothing more than sticky red paste seeping into the cracks in the rock.

"Good boy..." Brogan let out as Frost walked over to him. "Good boy..." He exhaled and grabbed Frost's reins, leaning on them for balance. Erik finally managed to pull himself up the rockside.

Brogan looked at him and grunted: "Pull this damned thing off of my shoulder." Erik grabbed the piece of ice and looked at him.

"This'll hurt."

"I know"

And with one smooth motion, Erik pulled the ice out, splashing some blood on the ground. Brogan pressed his teeth together and let out a grunt of pain.

"Dammit!" He hissed trough his teeth. Then he grabbed the ice on his left arm and pulled it out, grunting in pain again. He yelled something incoherent as the ice came out.

"I bloody hate magic! And why did you let that bitch escape!? Always finish off your enemies, and don't ever let them get away! What if she'd come back with back up? We'd have been screwed!"

"I'm sorry, OK! I didn't like getting all gored over!"

"Then why in Oblivion did you want to be a mercenary!?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have."

"Yeah, no shit!"

Rayya came back from the woods. "She's dead!" She yelled.

Brogan grunted, picked up his sword and walked over to a witch he'd shot before she could hurt Rayya. He grabbed her robe and ripped a few strips of it, then tied them over his wounds. He mounted Frost. "Let's see that woman we came to help." He grumbled.

She was lying face down on the ground.

"She's alive, barely." Rayya said as she tried her throat for pulse.

She rolled her over. The woman had a white scar going along her face from the corner of her forehead, over her nose, across her mouth and to her chin. It was uneven, likely made by a claw rather than a sharp blade. Her armor had lots of scratches and dents and was sill steaming a bit after the shock. She was clearly a strong warrior.

"Get her up" Brogan said. "Give her a healing potion and put her on Frost's back, we'll take her to Ivarstead with us."

Frost neighed and shaked his head in disagreement. "Shut up, Frost. You won't have to carry her for long."

Rayya dug her bag for a bit and grabbed two healing potions. The first one gave for the woman, and the second she threw to Brogan. Of the three of them he'd gotten the worst injuries.

The potion dulled the pain somewhat, enough to make Brogan able to ignore it. "Thanks." Brogan grumbled. "Let's go, we've wasted enough time here."

-o-

They returned to the road and turned East. The woman lying behind Brogan mumbled something but he didn't understand what she was trying to say.

Erik was sulking behind them. He didn't know wether to be angry at Brogan or be sorry that he'd let the witch escape. They walked in complete silence, save for the sound of their horses and the ever growing wind. It was starting to snow.

After they'd walked for half an hour, they finally reached the mountainpass. It was snowing heavily now.

"If we're lucky, we can get out of this gods' forsaken place before it gets dark." Brogan said and started to head up the road.

"Why in Oblivion didn't I take warmer clothes?" He thought. This damned pass was cold, even for a Nord. Frost was shivering from the coldness too as they reached the top of the hill.

As they headed down, Rayya spoke: "Look, there's a cave!" She pointed downhill. "Should we go there to wait until the snowing stops?"

"It never stops here" Brogan grunted.

"Why don't you just shout it away?" Erik asked. This was the first thing he'd said since leaving the battlefield.

"What?"

"I've seen you do it before, why don't you just use the Voice to shout the clouds away?"

"No." Brogan said sternly. "I won't use that cursed magic ever again!" The regretful look passed quickly on his face. "Let's keep moving"

After three hours of shivering cold, they finally emerged from the eastern side of the pass. The air felt immediately a lot warmer as they stepped into the forest that began from where the pass ended.

The woman was slowly regaining her conciousnes. "What is going on..? Where am I..?" Her voice was deep and a bit hoarse.

"Just rest, lady. We're taking you to Ivarstead." Brogan said as he turned his head to look at her. The woman either would not, or could not answer. She simply blinked slowly a few times and fell asleep again.

As they moved on, they saw a shack to their left. It seemed abandoned. None of them gave it more than a passing glance.

They walked for another hour, passing the forest. There had been a pack of wolves attacking a deer, and they'd stopped to observe the way of nature for a moment, but othervise they'd moved on a fast pace.

It was slowly getting dark, and the sun was setting behind them, once again creating long shadows that followed their every move ahead of them.

They arrived at a crossroad. There was a sign showing directions to Whiterun, Riften, Helgen and Ivarstead. They turned North, towards Ivarstead. Once on the road, they heard a growl from their left. It was a bear. They'd gotten too close to their cave, and two bears were charging at them.

"We don't have time for this! Let's go!" Brogan yelled and made Frost Gallop. Rayya and Erik quickly followed his example. At the pace they were moving, it didn't take long for them to reach Ivarstead and the bears gave up their chase relatively quickly.

"All right people!" Brogan said as he dismounted Frost and tied his reins on the tavern's sign pole. The sign read 'Vilemyr Inn'. Frost let out a disargeeing huff, as he thought being tied to a pole was demeaning. Brogan ignored him and continued his speech.

"We rest and resupply here. Tomorrow, we leave for Riften, so try to be awake at nine, ok?" Erik and Rayya both dismounted their horses and tied them to the pole as well.

"Of course, whatever you say, old man." Erik answered. It felt odd for him to call Brogan old now that he actually looked only five years older than Erik himslef. Rayya nodded as a response.

Brogan lifted the unconcious woman from Frost's back and carefully carried her into the tavern.

"Hey you!" He yelled to Wilhelm, the tavernkeep. "I need a healer and four rooms for tonight!"

"Of course" the tavernkeep said and looked at his barmaid Lynly, who immediately took the hint. She went outside to find the healer who'd settled into the village.

"Bring her over here." Wilhelm said and hurried to open a door to one of the rooms. "Settle her on the bed."

Brogan didn't say anything, just laid the woman on the bed and started to shift trought his pack. He grabbed a coin pouch and took out 40 septims, giving them to Wilhelm.

"For the rooms."

"Of course" Wilhelm stuffed the coins into his pocket.

Lynly barged into the room with a young, rather thin man behind her. He had a short, red hair and a stubble. His eyes looked a bit tired and his nose seemed to have been broken at some point. He was wearing adept robes and had many pouches and vials of different powders and potions on his belt.

"Clearly a Breton" Brogan thought. "A man who knows both healing magic and herbs. A valuable ally to any soldier"

"So what is the problem here?" The Breton asked. His voice sounded both arrogant and smug. A lot like Brogan himself. And Brogan hated him already because of it.

"She was struck with a thunderbolt to the back. A direct hit."

"I see..." The Breton said and looked at the woman. "Please, leave us. I need space to work."

"Whatever" Brogan shrugged and headed out of the room, Wilhelm and Lynly behind him.

He sat down near the hearthfire, next to Erik. "Hey lad." Brogan said as he sat down. Erik didn't answer, just stared into the fire.

"Sorry I gave you some shit back at the battlefield. I tend to forget you're still new to this kind of stuff."

Erik still didn't answer, just drank some ale from his mug.

"You know, when I was twelve, I had to steal to survive. My mother was... very poor. We lived in an old shack on the edge of Cyrodiil's border in a small village you wouldn't even see on a map. She had to work two jobs at once, just to get enough to pay for the house, and a third to get food. I told her that I was working too, but instead I stole and sold different things I could get my hands on. It was the only way we could survive."

Erik had turned his head towards Brogan and listened attentively.

"Did you ever get caught?"

"Oh yes. Several time in fact"

"How were you punished?"

"I wasn't. See, I was really good at, shall we say, making people see my point of view even back then. There was always some unfortunate urchin I could roll the blame on."

"That's cold."

"Well I'm not saying I was, or am now, proud of it. It simply was something I had to do if I didn't want to see my mother starve."

"What happened to those urchins?"

Brogan shifted his weight on the chair. "Damned if I know. Likely they were thrown in a cellar for a couple of days or something."

Lynly came up to him with a jug of ale and a mug. "A drink, milord?" She asked. She had a blond hair and tired eyes. She was wearing a dirty, ragged dress and had a even dirtier rag on her belt. She looked extremely familiar but Brogan couldn't tell why. He squinted at her.

"Say, do I know you from somewhere?"

Her eyes widened a bit. She seemed frightened. "I do not believe we've ever met before, milord."

Brogan looked at her for a few more moments. "If you say so then. Sure, pour me a mug."

She poured some ale into the mug and gave it to Brogan. She left swiftly afterwards.

"So where was I..." Brogan said and drank a gulp of ale.

"You were telling me about how nobly you always rolled the guilt of your thefts on some unlucky urchins."

Brogan frowned at him over the edge of his mug.

"So what happened to your dad? You haven't mentioned him at all." Erik changed the subject.

Brogan spat into the fire. "Not much to tell. Once, I might have called him father but by that time, he could have been killed by bandits in front of my very eyes and I wouldn't have cared a skeever's ass about it. Other than that they likely would have raped my mom and killed me afterwards, but on his part, I wouldn't have cared the least. And let's leave it at that."

Erik listened closely. Brogan had never told him this much about his past.

Brogan dug trough his pack and gave a coin pouch to Erik. "Go buy some food for the horses. And a better armor for me, I'm not going to travel in these rags any longer." He looked at his ripped clothes that had been stained with blood.

Erik watched the pouch for a moment, drank the rest of his ale and headed out.

Brogan looked again at Lynly, and finally realized who she was and grinned.

The Breton healer came out of the woman's room with his lip split open.

"What happened to you?" Brogan asked, holding back his laugh.

"Well..." The Breton answered, "She got a bit scared as she woke up and punched me straight in the face before I could tell her why I'd taken her armor off and why I was rubbing a burn lotion on her bare back."

Brogan couldn't hold back anymore and started laughing. "Welcome to Skyrim!" He yelled and emptied his mug.

"Yes, very nice." The Breton answered indifferently. "Say, you too look like you could use some healing too."

"Who? Me?" Brogan asked and looked at himself. There were a lot of wounds on his chest as well as the holes the ice spikes had left in his arm and shoulder. He'd ignored them thus far but now that he actually thought about it, he realized getting healed wasn't such a bad idea. "Yeah... You might be correct at that..."

"Well, let's head to your room and I'll fix you up!" The Breton said with a smug tone.

"Uuuhh, no." Brogan answered. "I don't trust you, mage. If you're going to do anything to me, it'll be right here, in front of witnesses."

"Fine, doesn't matter to me as long as nobody interrupts my work."

"They won't" Brogan said. "Right tavernkeep!?" He yelled.

"Right, right." Wilhelm said absently as he looked at his ledger.

The Breton pulled up a chair and sat opposite to Brogan. "Let's get this done then."

Brogan took off his shirt and only now realized how badly the hagraven's claws had cut him. "Wonderful..." He said and tried to get a comfortable position as the Breton poked around his chest.

"Who are you anyway?" Brogan asked as the Breton applied some sort of concoction on his wounds.

"My name is Dilar. Dilar Motinie." The Breton answered. "I'm from-"

"You're from Jehanna." Brogan interrupted him.

Dilar looked at him, clearly confused. "Yes, I'm from Jehanna. How'd you know?"

"A lucky guess." Brogan lied. He knew the Motinie name. They are a powerful noble house in Jehanna and a few of them have made some business with the Guild.

He grunted as Dilar put something that burned like the fire of a dragon into the hole in his shoulder.

"What in Oblivion is that crap!?" He let out and shrugged backwards in his chair.

"Stay still!" Dilar said sternly. "It'll clean up your wound. If I didn't do that, your wounds would likely start to fester and you'd be in a lot more pain than you are now."

"Whatever..." Brogan grunted and tried to relax.

After about a half an hour of 'healing torture', as he'd call it, Brogan finally got up from his chair. Dilar had cleaned up his wounds and closed them with magic. He couldn't lie, he felt a lot better.

"Here." Brogan gave Dilar 200 septims. "For your trouble."

"My thanks." Dilar answered with a grin.

"Would you mind taking a look at my friends too? I think they've both got some burns around their bodies." Brogan asked. Maybe this Breton wasn't _so _bad as he'd initially thought.

"If you're paying, then sure." Dilar said smugly. "Speaking of paying, I need payment for that woman in that room." He nodded towards the room he'd left the woman in.

"Well you can discuss that with her once she wakes up. She's not part of my company."

"Yet you carried her all the way over here and paid for her room?"

"Well, it never hurts to be a little kind." Brogan said and grinned smugly. "But I'm not paying her medical bills."

"Fine" Dilar said. The grin on his face was suddenly gone. He sat to a table next to the wall and started eating some bread.

"Now where is that girl..." Brogan thought and swept the inn with his gaze. He saw Lynly sweeping the floor near a corner.

"Hey girl!" He yelled. "Come over here!" He could see Lynly tense as she stopped sweeping the floor. She waited a few moments, trying to figure out what to do. Then she walked over to Brogan who waved her to follow him into his room. The poor girl was starting to freak out but followed him regardless.

"Close the door." She was really scared right now. She closed the door and prayed to all the Divines that Brogan wouldn't call her-

"I know who you are, Svidi." Brogan said smugly and grinned.

"...Did Sibbi send you?" She asked.

"Well, the last time I saw him, it was seven months ago in Riften jail. Not sure if he's still inside, but back then he asked me to find and kill you. You've done well to change your appearance. You look very vaguely like the young woman Sibbi described to me back then, and not many would notice a difference. However, you could never fool someone like me."

He watched Svidi as she started pacing and grabbing her hair.

"Are you going to kill me now and make Sibbi's wish come true?"

"Tell me first, did your brother try to murder him like he claims?"

"No! My brother never had a weapon. That didn't stop Sibbi from killing him when he confronted him about his affair with that other woman."

"So, you're saying Sibbi is a liar?"

"Yes. Aren't all Black-Briars?"

"Not all of them. Maven's daughter, that young girl interested in alchemy? Ingun I think her name is, seems to be rather honest one, if not creepy with her poisons and shit."

"So... are you going to let me go or what?" She asked, trying to sound brave while panic was clawing up her throat.

"Yes." Brogan answered, still grinning. "That man is an asshole and deserves a lot worse than to rot in a cell nicer than a peasant's house. If he's still locked up, anyway. I'll tell him you're dead and you can keep on living here"

He could see the sweet relief in Svidi's eyes. She jumped at him and hugged him. "Thank you!" She whispered.

"I've always preferred pretty girls over assholes anyway..." Brogan smiled. No longer smugly, but kindly.

She swept a tear from her cheek while Brogan asked: "Could you do me a small favor for the small favor I'm doing for you?"

"Anything!" She answered.

"Sing something for me."

She smiled widely. "Let's get back to the main hall and I'll sing something for you, alright?"

And so they headed back to the main hall. Erik had returned from shopping and was now having his burns treated by Dilar with Rayya waiting for her turn.

"Where were you?" Brogan asked Rayya.

"I checked out that ancient Nord ruin right next to the village. There was some elf playing a ghost. He attacked me when I got there and I had to kill him. Here's his journal if you're interested." She threw him a small notebook with leather covers.

Brogan paged trough it quickly and threw it forward to Wilhelm. "If you've ever had any trouble coming from that ruin, it was likely that little elf causing trouble."

"Well I'll be..." Wilhelm said as he read trough the journal. "Maybe we'll see more travellers coming trough Ivarstead now that we know that ruin isn't cursed."

"Good luck with that." Brogan said and looked at Svidi who had gone to grab a lute from her room and was now starting to play it.

"What would you want me to sing, milord?" She asked Brogan.

"Whatever you'd like."

"Very well..." She played a few notes and started:

"_We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone, for the age of the dragons is newly begun/_

_We'll drive out the dovah, from this land that we own, with our blood and our steel we shall take back our home!/_

_All hail the legendary Dovahkiin, in your great honor we'll drink and we'll sing!/_

_We're the children of Skyrim and we fight all our lives, and when the Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!/_

_For this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean, of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams!/_

_All hail the legendary Dovahkiin, in your great honor we'll drink and we'll sing!/_

_We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives, and when the Sovngarde beckons, Every one of us dies!_"/

Trough the entire song, Brogan listened closely. He'd never heard this version of the 'Age of Aggression'.

"When was this version of the song made?" He asked Svidi.

"About three months ago, the bard's college composed new lyrics for the song, as both the Empire and the Stormcloack versions are kind of dumb now that Ulfric is dead. And what better way to do it than to celebrate the gratest hero of this Era?"

"Indeed. Have you ever met the Dragonborn?" He asked with a smug grin on his face and gave Erik and Rayya a quick glance. They were both in on the plot right away.

"I've never really met him, but I did get a quick glimbse of him, about three years ago I think, when he passed on his way to High Hrothgar when he was summoned by the Graybeards."

"Uh-huh..." Brogan shrugged, trying to figure out her tone. She clearly admired him a lot, even if she didn't know he was the person they were speaking of.

"And if you ever were to meet the Dragonborn, what would you say to him?"

"Well, I'd like to thank him, first and foremost, for saving the world. And I'd also love to hear all the mighty stories he might have about his battle with Alduin and his time with the Companions."

"You really would regret it..." Erik snickered to himself and Rayya prodded him in the arm.

"Well, I'll be sure to tell him that the next time I meet him." Brogan grinned.

Erik got up when Dilar was finished with treating his burns. "I'd better go clean this armor. Don't want to look like a damned barbarian" He said as he looked at his new armor. The whole front side of it had been colored red from the witch's blood, and some of it had seeped into the cracks between the scales. "Oh, those are gonna be a real bitch to get out..." He said quietly to himself.

"I think I'm going to bed. Need to wake up early tomorrow." Brogan said and yawned. "So good night, gentlemen, lady, and Rayya." Brogan said and shot a sly look at his housecarl.

"Screw you too, my thane" Rayya answered and grunted as Dilar applied some sort of poultice on her arm.

Brogan took off his ragged clothes and kicked his boots out of his feet. He buried himself under the warm furs in the bed and blew out the candle. He fell asleep wondering, what they would find when they reach the Dawnguard Keep.

-o-

**A/N:** _There we are. Constructive criticism is welcome. Also, anyone who wishes to be a new Beta Reader, please inform me via PM. Here's the url of the song Svidi was singing: _ watch?v=jTq4f_rgiPA&amp;list=LLFdBlPSRCuIxzJ9qsAXJG8A&amp;index=93 _(sorry, I couldn't turn it into a link)_ _I do not claim ownership of the song, made by Johnny Medlar. And sorry about the length of this chapter, I'll try to make the next one a bit shorter ;P_


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